


ties that bind

by bittlebarnes (monroesherlock)



Series: ties that bind - bio kid tim verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne is Tim Drake's Biological Parent, Multi, Open Ending, Post Battle for the Cowl, Tim Drake is CEO, Tim Drake-centric, hurt with some comfort, jason is mixed race, no superheroing here just emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monroesherlock/pseuds/bittlebarnes
Summary: To be fair, Tim figured it out when he was, like, ten years old. Janet Drake had been a social climber through and through, so the way she always avoided their most famous neighbor had confused him as a kid.That is, until the first time he actually saw the man.-The one where Tim is Bruce's biological son.
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: ties that bind - bio kid tim verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961641
Comments: 21
Kudos: 585
Collections: Batfam Big Bang 2020, TimDrake works you should read





	ties that bind

**Tim**

To be fair, Tim figured it out when he was, like, ten years old. Janet Drake had been a social climber through and through, so the way she always avoided their most famous neighbor had confused him as a kid. 

That is, until the first time he actually saw the man.

The reporter currently airing out his family's dirty laundry on channel 7 seems far too pleased with herself for his liking. She's ruining Tim’s life, after all. Besmirching the reputations of both his mother _and_ his biological father. Humiliating the man who had unwittingly given Tim his last name despite Tim _not being his actual son_ -

You'd think she'd feel _something_ — _anything_ near the soul-crushing dread washing over him right now. 

But no. There’s nothing. She seems downright _gleeful_ as she exposes all that Tim has tried so hard to keep locked up tight. 

A sudden flash of light catches his eye. It’s his phone flaring as notification after notification rushes in. Shit. He’d forgotten all about his public accounts. His mentions must be in shambles. He grabs his phone, takes a deep breath, and swipes his finger across the lock screen. It doesn’t take long to find the posts that have everyone so excited. There's an old photo of him already trending all over Twitter. It’s him at a gala from when he was about twelve years old. His dark hair slicked back and overly styled. He can vividly remember his mother fussing with it for almost half an hour before she’d finally deigned him presentable enough to face Gotham’s elite high society. His face plastered with the biggest fake smile he’d been able to muster. He’s gotten much better since then, he thinks. He swipes to the next photo. It’s one of a much younger Bruce Wayne, and Tim sees clear as day what everyone else must be seeing. He sees himself reflected in the tightness around Bruce’s eyes. The brittleness of his grin. How no one made the connection between them before this truly is a mystery. 

Twitter must have taken the idea and ran with it because there are _so many_ sets of photos. Picture after picture of Tim juxtaposed next to picture after picture of Bruce. A candid shot of a 16-year-old Tim Drake at a cafe next to a genuinely perplexing candid of a 17-year-old Bruce at a dive bar. The headshot Tim had taken for his position at WE right next to Bruce's old headshot. In each photoset, their expressions and gestures are near identical. _Geez_ , he thinks, _the internet works fast_. 

Eventually, he decides he’s had quite enough and starts muting tweets before just deleting the app altogether. The silence is short-lived, however, because it’s seconds before his phone starts vibrating again. Great. He must not be the only one watching the news. 

He knows the phone isn’t going to stop ringing until he answers at least one of their calls. He waits. Watches as the names ping his caller ID. God. All the careful distance he's put between himself and his family- _wasted_. 

Dick.

Dick again.

Tam.

Kon. He’ll call him back later.

Bart.

Dick again.

Barbara.

Bruce-

Tim picks up the phone.

The line is quiet at first. All he can hear is the sound of Bruce’s breathing. 

" _You knew,_ " the man finally says. It’s not a question. Of course, Bruce was able to put that together.

"You didn't?" Tim scoffs. He shouldn’t be surprised. If there’s one thing Tim knows how to do, it’s exist in Bruce’s blind spot. 

Bruce lets out a tired sounding sigh.

“ _Where are you?_ ” The man asks. 

Tim looks around at the state of his apartment. It’s no messier than usual but still probably not fit for company. Especially Bruce's company. Honestly, he should really just hire a cleaning service. 

"I'd rather not say,” he replies quietly.

“ _Tim, we need to talk about this. Soon._ ” 

“Why? It's not like this means anything, Bruce. Nothing would be different."

And Tim knows it’s true.

He still wouldn't be enough. 

\--

Tim contemplates just calling in sick for the rest of the week. He knows going into the office is going to be a nightmare, but something inside him just won’t concede. He can hear his mother’s voice clear as day, telling him to push on. _Never let them see you weak. If they think they know your shame, make them_ choke _on it._ It’s going to be a mess to deal with, but, make no mistake, it _will_ get dealt with.

The next morning, Tim carefully paints over the dark circles under his eyes and sweeps his hair out of his face. He selects a suit carefully. Not black. Timothy Drake-Wayne is not in mourning. This is just another day. Just another scandal. Nothing an 18-year-old CEO can’t manage.

Tim has worked hard to gain the respect of his board, of his employees. He doesn’t ignore their stares as he enters the building, instead offers a pleasant unbothered smile and a nod. Sure, he knows what they must be thinking. Bruce has always been _eccentric_ so of course, he gave his bastard kid the company. It’s just one more fuck up. There were whispers that he’s too young, too inexperienced. After a few years, the murmurs finally died down and Tim began settling into his role.

Well, all of that hard work’s been chucked out the window. 

C’est la vie.

Alicia is already in his office waiting for him, his morning brief in one hand, and his standard coffee order in the other. She’s always perfectly professional. Good. That’s why he hired her. 

“PR wants to meet with you as soon as possible,” she says briskly as soon as he sits down at his desk.

“Of course they do. I’m not sure what they want me to say, though,” he shrugs, “there’s nothing to really add to the story.” Everything’s already out on the table.  
“Apparently they have some concerns about the company’s image as ‘family-friendly’,” she deadpans, and yeah, a sex scandal will do that. Huh, Tim hadn’t even really thought of it that way. 

“Any way I’m getting out of that?” He asks and he knows the answer before he sees her grimace.

Great.

\--

They’re meeting in one of the conference rooms on one of the lower floors of WE’s building. They’ve set out some of his favorite finger sandwiches and another cup of his standard coffee order so they must have a really big ask.

“We need you to show a united front. The press is already pitting you all against each other. We need to show the shareholders that your family isn’t currently eating itself,” one of the company's ‘crisis’ managers (Craig? Tim thinks his name is Craig) says. His glasses are sliding down his nose as he talks. It’s distracting. “I hope it’s not too much to ask.”

Tim manages to keep his smile perfectly placid but it’s a struggle. A big ask indeed.

“I understand that the board has its concerns given the recent...complications with me and the media, but really, I don’t think any of this is necessary and I’d much rather my family be allowed to deal with this situation privately.”

“And that’s what we’d all prefer too, Mr. Drake-Mr. _Wayne_ ,” Craig (?) struggles to keep his voice light, “but the fact of the matter is this story is already public property. We need to get out in front of this, for the good of the company. Showing the world that your family is all on the same team is one way to start changing the narrative.”

Tim hates how much it makes sense.

“Of course,” he concedes. “I make no promises, but I will take this suggestion to Bruce and allow him to decide how we move forward.” It’s a gamble, invoking Bruce’s name. Even though Bruce is no longer part of the company (at least in title), his name still carries weight with most of WE’s employees. “You understand why he might be hesitant to engage with the media on such a sensitive subject given the handling of familial issues in the past,” Tim says it gently like he’s really only thinking of Bruce’s needs.

Craig purses his lips. “Of course Mr. Wayne will need to be consulted. We all have the utmost respect for him and what he brought to this company during his tenure as CEO. That being said, I find it hard to believe that Mr. Wayne won’t want what’s best for WE’s future.” The smile he gives Tim is anything but friendly. 

Great.

He’s not getting out of this easily then. 

How the fuck is he supposed to wrangle everyone into a family photo?

**Dick**

Dick tries calling Tim using every number he has saved in his phone before he pulls on some of his best clothes and makes the trek to Wayne Tower. It’s nearly 6 pm but Tim’s known to work late so there’s a pretty good chance he’s still in the office. Good. 

Nowhere to run. 

The building is clearing out for the night but the few employees he sees stop and stare at him as he walks by. 

_Good to know this is gonna blow over soon_ , he thinks as he boards the elevator.

Tim looks fine. Tim _always_ looks fine. He smiles when he sees Dick and ushers his harried-looking assistant out of his office. 

“It's going to be a trying day, Alicia,” he says over her protests, “please hold my calls.”

“But Mr. Wayne-”

"It’ll be just a minute," he tells her and he’s all smiles. The kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Dick listens to the sound of her clicking heels slowly fading away and then they’re alone.

It’s strange. He’s been in this office plenty of times before. Remembers it from when he was still a child visiting Bruce at work. It still looks the same. Tall, floor-to-ceiling windows. Steel grey carpet. Industrial white leather accent chairs that he’s sure are worth more than he makes in a year. A huge oak desk that must have been built by hand. He remembers Bruce sitting behind it for hours on end chatting with Lucius or Clark. Funny. Tim looks so much like him now. Dick had always chalked up Tim and Bruce's similarities to Tim's admiration for their father. A desire to be more like the man rather than an inherent disposition. 

Dick should’ve known better, but then again, Bruce had always criticized his detective skills.

Tim steadfastly doesn’t look at him. He keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he pretends Dick isn’t there.

Fine. Dick’s comfortable being the one who talks first.

"You didn't answer my calls,” he says carefully, “I was worried about you. We all are.” He settles himself into one of those stupid expensive chairs. “I’ve been trying to reach you since I saw the news.”

"Sorry. I didn't want to," Tim says flippantly and Dick doesn't flinch. He doesn't let himself.

"At least we're being honest," he says. He hears Tim's hands still, and _finally,_ his little brother meets his eyes. He looks older, Dick thinks. That makes sense. He can’t remember the last time he and Tim actually physically inhabited the same space, and even when they did, Tim never let him get close enough to get a good look. 

"Are we? Being honest, I mean?" Tim says. His voice gives nothing away, carefully neutral in that way only Tim and Bruce have mastered. Dick wonders if it’s going to be like that now. If every time he looks at Tim, he’ll see some shadow of Bruce standing between them.

"If you want,” Dick says, “I know we haven't really talked in a while. And the last time we did….” It didn’t exactly go well. Dick still remembers screaming and tears and a bedroom torn to shreds.

Tim’s mask never falters. "Funny,” he says, “I thought you weren't interested in listening to what I have to say."

Ah. There it is. Dick has honestly been waiting to have this conversation. “Tim, is this a fight you finally want to have, or are you just gonna keep avoiding me?”

Tim pushes back away from his desk, a grimace on his face.

“Of course it’s me avoiding you. It’s always me isn’t it?” Tim stands and walks across the office to open up a sleek black cabinet. There’s an espresso machine inside. Dick watches as Tim dutifully goes through the motions of preparing himself a cup. 

Dick lets him finish his task. He can wait. He’s been waiting.

“Why are you here, Dick?” Tim asks finally, his spoon clinking against the ceramic mug.

That’s an easy one, he thinks. “I wanted to see you if you were okay. I’m sure the last 24 hours haven’t been pleasant for you,” Dick says mildly.

“That’s one way to put it,” Tim scoffs as he takes his seat back at his desk. “It’s not like it matters though.”

“Doesn’t it?” Dick finally asks the question that’s been burning in his gut since he found out the truth, “is this why you were so sure? Why you _had_ to keep looking?”

Tim lurches to his feet, the mug spilling overall across his desk. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m not doing this with you, Dick. I’m just not.” He says and he’s shaking. There’s a rage quaking in his voice that Dick hasn’t heard in at least a year. 

Fine. 

The only way out is through.

Dick takes a deep breath, “I know you’re angry with me, Tim.”

“I’m not-”

“Stop. Let’s not bullshit each other. You’re pissed at me and you deserve to be pissed at me. I made a choice.” Dick shrugs. It’s his fault they’re here. That they can’t talk to one another anymore. He had to give Damian the support he’d needed. To reign the kid in before he _really_ went off the deep end. Tim was always going to be fine. Angry, sure. But fine. There was always supposed to be time to fix things later. 

Well, it’s later.

Tim actually laughs at him. “Well, thank you for your permission, _Richard_. Good to know I’m allowed to be angry with you for throwing me out on my ass like garbage.”

“That’s not fair. No one made you leave the manor, Tim. You chose to do that,” Dick reminds him. 

“How in the world was I supposed to live in a place with someone who believed I was crazy and someone who wanted to kill me? You couldn’t have honestly expected me to stay there. When you made your choice you knew I was going to have to leave - don’t fucking lie to me, Dick.” Tim’s eyes are wild, his hair falling out of its careful coiffure. He doesn’t even appear to realize he’s stood.

It’s almost funny.

He looks even more like Bruce like this. 

“That’s not what I wanted at all, Tim,” Dick tells him, “I wanted you to grow into your own and you _did_. And I’m so proud of you. Really.” 

Tim’s shaking his head. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Dick. Don’t fucking come in here and lie straight to my face-”

“I’m not lying. I don’t know how to make you believe me but I’m not lying,” Dick sighs. “You’re my brother. I-”

“Mr. Wayne? It sounded like you were upset and you didn’t have anything scheduled,” a woman pushes open Tim’s office door. She’s staring right at Dick, a sour look on her face.

Tim takes the out. “Alicia! Yes, I was just finishing up for the night. My brother stopped in for a quick visit. With everything going on we’re all realizing the importance of family.” 

“Oh! Well, I was gonna go ahead and leave for the night-”

“Actually, Dick was on his way out as well and he always gets lost in this big ‘ole building,” Tim laughs hollowly but the woman either doesn’t notice or chooses not too. “I was wondering if you could show him the way out.” 

“Really I’m okay-” Dick tries.

“No, Dick. Please. It’s really not a bother. Alicia will show you out.” Tim’s smile is tight but the look in his eyes is clear. This conversation is over. 

For now.

**Damian**

" _I mean it makes sense why Wayne was willing to sign over the company! It's his son!"_

_"Wayne was just keeping it in the family-"_

Damian cuts the broadcast before it can go any further. His entire body feels numb like there’s static crackling underneath his flesh. Drake. Drake is his father's son. Drake is his _brother_.

No.

It's so much worse than that. Drake is their father's _firstborn._

He startles when he hears the remote clatter loudly against the floor. He hadn’t even realized he’d dropped it. 

He clenches and unclenches his hands and tries to regain control. His breath. He must focus on his breath.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Damian opens his eyes. When did he close them? 

He’s losing control, the world he’s built spinning out of his control. Damian has always pictured his future one way. The heir to two great dynasties. Both his grandfather's and his father's legacies at his fingertips and now one slips so easily from his grasp. Drake will never give up his position in the company. Why would he? He's the _heir_.

And as the oldest blood son, if anything happens to their father, Drake will have absolute authority over his future.

This is unacceptable.

Damian can’t take much more. 

He was finally getting his way. He’s Robin. He’s fighting at his father’s side like he was always meant to. Drake finally _moved out_.

And now he’s never going to go away.

Damian has to get out of the living room, away from the overbearing screen. Titus appears at his side, the warm length of his body pressed against Damian’s thigh as he begins the slow trek to his room. Damian is grateful for the quiet comfort. 

The walk to his bedroom takes him through one of the manor’s many hallways. Damian doesn’t know who hung all the photos decorating the walls. He suspects Pennyworth or Grayson. Across the walls he sees the faces of his grandparents, a couple happy and smiling. Young photos of Grayson by father’s side gap-toothed and beaming. There’s only one of Todd. It’s a blurry shot clearly taken without his knowledge. He’s reading a book in a room that, after a hard look, Damian recognizes as the library, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

Who knew Todd could even read?

The photos continue. There’s one of him and Grayson together, the older man’s arms around his stiff shoulders. 

It’s the last photo in the hall that stops him. It’s Drake and his father shaking hands. Some company event Damian wasn’t invited to. 

A father and his son.

_Why didn’t anyone tell him?_

“Master Damian? Is something on your mind?” Damian nearly startles at the sound of Alfred’s soft voice. The older man is standing a few feet away from him, concern clear on his face. 

“No,” Damian shakes his head and tries to clear thoughts of betrayal and shame from his mind. “I think I’m ready for tea, Pennyworth.”

“Of course. Your father will be home soon. I’m sure there are some things he’d like to talk to you about today.” The butler’s face is grave as he steps forward and sets a careful hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Whatever you’ve heard, Master Damian, know that your father’s love for you doesn’t change because of his relationships with anyone else. _Anyone_.”

Damian wishes he could believe that.

**Tim**

The inside of his apartment is a welcome sight after the hellish day at work. Having Alicia find him a cleaning service was a good idea. After such a chaotic day it’s actually nice to come back to a clean space. He kicks off his shoes at the door and unties his tie. There’s no way he’s cooking tonight. He pulls out his phone and flips through his saved numbers for local takeout places. 

He’s deliberating between Thai and Indian when a light tap at his bedroom window catches his attention. 

Honestly, there are few times Tim can think of that he’s been happier to see Kon hovering outside his window. The window _snicks_ as Tim slides it open. 

“You’re supposed to start using the elevator,” he says and he can’t stop the relieved smile that covers his face. He’s _missed_ Kon. Even before this PR mess he’d been so swamped with WE and reviewing some of Bruce’s old cases that he hasn’t had any time to return to the tower. 

Kon barely makes a sound as he touches down in Tim’s bedroom. The sheepskin rug was a good investment then. Tim closes the window and pulls his curtains closed.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you - I am - but what are you doing here?” Tim asks even though he already knows the answer. Why wouldn’t Kon come? They’re dating, right? Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be?

“I wanted to check on you,” Kon says plainly, “you weren’t answering your phone.” Kon toes off his shoes and follows Tim across the room. 

Tim lets out a heavy sigh as he sits down on his bed. The cleaning service must have made his bed, which is both extremely disconcerting and comforting at the same time. He hopes they didn’t judge him much for the crumbs. The comforter rustles as Kon sits down next to him.

“You okay?” He says and Tim has _no idea_ how to answer that one.

“It’s been a bit of a busy day,” Tim says wryly. He reaches out and takes Kon’s hand, twines their fingers together, and squeezes gently. 

“Yeah,” Kon gives him a small, almost shy smile, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Tim sighs and leans against him. He rests his forehead against Kon’s shoulder and breathes. Kon smells like crisp air and ozone. Like sunlight and warmth. Tim feels better just having him close. He lets himself relax against Kon’s bulk. Why didn’t he call Kon first? This is just what he needed.

“I know you have questions. You can ask,” he says after a while. He feels the soft press of Kon’s thumb against the back of his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it though? I mean, this must be shocking to you.”

A laugh bubbles out of Tim’s lips before he can stop it. 

“It’s not that much of a shock. Can’t be considering I’ve known I was related to Bruce since I was ten.”

He can feel Kon’s shock.

“So you all were just...ignoring it?” He asks slowly. 

Tim laughs again as he pulls his feet up onto the bed and crosses his legs. “Don’t have to really ignore it when you’re the only one who knows,” he says.

Kon’s bright blue eyes widen with surprise. “You’ve been holding that in all this time? Just keeping it to yourself?” He says quietly.

“The best way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself,” Tim sighs, “and it’s not like anyone else needed to know. It would have just complicated things.”

Kon’s expression is pained. “Yeah, but at what cost?”

“It wasn’t supposed to cost anything. No one else was supposed to know,” Tim shrugs. “But now they do and Dick’s already making a big deal out of it. God, I can’t imagine what Damian must be thinking right now. Probably plotting fratricide as we speak.”

“Shit. You and the bat-brat are brothers. Like legit brothers. That’s fucking crazy, Tim,” Kon murmurs. “He’s totally gonna kill you.”

“We were already brothers, Kon. We’re all brothers. Blood doesn’t change that,” Tim groans. He leans his head against Kon’s shoulder again and takes a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Kon’s voice is gentle and Tim already feels better. He has no idea how Kon always manages to make everything okay.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks.

He can’t see Kon’s face but he can hear the smile in his voice when he asks, “will Bruce mind me staying in the city without his permission?”

“I pay my own rent,” Tim laughs, “ and I don’t police his houseguests. Bruce can mind his own business.”

“As long as you’re the one that explains that to him, I’m good. Why don’t you get some sleep? No offense but you look like you need it.” He gently lifts Tim’s chin and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Take a nap. I’ll still be here when you wake up and we’ll get takeout, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim yawns. He _is_ tired.

“I’ll see you in like an hour.”

“Night, Kon,” Tim yawns when his head finally hits the pillow. He can’t help but smile when he Kon lays down next to him, a comforting heat draped across his back.

“Night, Tim,” he says, “sleep tight.”

**Damian**

“Damian?” 

Damian looks up from his sketchbook at the sound of his father’s voice. Wonderful, he’s home. Damian’s been dreading this all day.

“Damian, can I come in?” Father says as he knocks again and Damian knows he can’t put this conversation off forever. Better sooner than later then

“The door is open, father,” he says quietly.

The door squeaks as it opens revealing the tired face of his father. Bruce is dressed like he’s getting ready for bed. Damian’s glad for it. His father is far less intimidating in silk pajamas than the batsuit.

“You didn’t come down to dinner,” Bruce says and his voice holds no true reproach but Damian hears it anyway. 

“I wasn’t very hungry,” he replies shortly. It’s not a lie. He hasn’t really had an appetite since his entire world shifted to the left and spun upside down. 

“It’s still good for you to eat. Keeps your strength up,” Father tells him. Of course. Damian has allowed his emotions to get the better of him and has become derelict in his duty. He’s already becoming complacent. Drake-Tim-his _brother_ must be somewhere laughing at him. This must be what he’s always wanted.

“Of course, Father,” he says stiffly, “I apologize. I’ll try to do better.”

“Damian, you don’t have to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong and you’re not in trouble.” His father leans against the doorframe, crosses his arms, and sighs. “I wanted to talk to you about today. I wanted to see how you were doing. This has been a shock to everyone.”

Everyone? Had father not known? Why wouldn’t Drake- _Tim_ use his bloodline to his advantage? Why would he hide it? “I’m fine,” he says instead, “I assume Timothy will be moving back into the manor soon? I know you would prefer it if he resided here and didn’t change anything about his room.”

“I’m pretty sure Tim is more than comfortable having his own space in his apartment. If he wanted to move back in he would’ve done it by now. It’s just you, Alfred, and me, kid,” Father tells him and Damian wants to believe him. He wants to believe that Father could put Timothy’s age aside. Will put aside Timothy’s rightful birthright.

“I assumed you would want your son close to you,” Damian says hollowly.

“He still lives in town, Damian. Eventually, you’re gonna get older and you’ll probably want to move out too. It’s normal,” Father sighs again and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know this is strange for you seeing as you and Tim don’t have the best relationship but I’m sure Tim would agree with me when I say nothing would be different. I had four sons before the news broke and I still have four sons now.”

Damian clenches his pencil so tight he can feel it splintering between his fingers. He _will not_ cry. He can’t.

“I mean that,” Bruce says, “you’re still my son. So is Tim. So is Jason. So is Dick. You’re my children.”

Damian nods stiffly. He wants to believe it. Wants to believe that nothing has changed.

“If you say so, father,” he says. It doesn’t sound believable even to his own ears.

Bruce purses his lips. “Okay then,” he says quietly. “Alfred left dinner out for you. If you’re polite I’m sure you can persuade him to heat it up for you.”

Damian closes his sketchbook and does as he’s told but he has to admit he doesn’t taste any of the food going down.

**Bruce**

Ambushing Tim at the office is a last resort but this has gone on long enough. Bruce game him over 24 hours but it’s clear Tim is not going to be the one who reaches out. Depending on how long Tim has actually know about their familial connection, Bruce can’t be surprised Tim isn’t jumping to reestablish their relationship. 

“Bruce!” Tim says with an imitation of a cheerful smile, “you didn’t say you were coming by.” Bruce matches him with a fake smile of his own.

“You know I have to come and see my boy at work sometimes, Timothy. Make sure this place is still standing. If I gave you a heads up I’d never find a moment to talk to you. Alicia! Good to see you, as always. I’m sure he’s got you working hard, but I’d really appreciate a moment to talk to my son alone,” he says, gesturing loosely to one of the chairs in front of his old desk.

Alicia makes no move to leave, her eyes flickering to Tim as she clutches her clipboard tighter. She’s always had a spine of steel.

“It’s fine, Alicia. Even though he’s not a WE employee anymore, Bruce is still a very busy man so I’m sure he can’t stay long. Give us fifteen and then you and I can keep going over the quarterly reports,” Tim says tightly. 

“Of course, Mr. Drake. Fifteen minutes. Have a lovely evening, Mr. Wayne.” 

She leaves them then and it’s just him and Tim alone.

That in itself is a rare thing.

A year ago (or several depending on how you measure), Bruce was stumbling through the time stream wondering if he’d ever make it back home. 

Now he’s back where he belongs but enough has changed that home doesn’t quite seem like home anymore. 

The Tim sitting in front of him isn’t the same Tim he left behind. That kid had still been fighting crime by his side and sleeping in his room in the manor. Coming back to find everything shifted had been… an adjustment. It’s been like pulling teeth trying to get the story out of Dick and Damian, and Tim’s gotten so good at dodging Bruce that he almost stopped trying.

That’s not exactly an option anymore.

“It’s good to see you,” Bruce starts as he sits down across from Tim, “I had hoped you would have come by the manor by now so we could talk, but I somehow get the feeling that wasn’t your plan.”

Tim’s responding sigh is almost wistful. “No, that wasn’t exactly my plan.”

“Of course not. You’ve gotten very good at avoiding me,” Bruce says, “so now I’m extending an invitation. Dinner. Tomorrow night. Alfred’s cooking and everyone will be there.”

Tim kisses his teeth and leans back in his chair. “And I imagine I don't have the option to decline?”

Bruce matches him, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “I’m not sure I understand why you’d want to do that, Tim.”

Tim shrugs his shoulders loosely and keeps his voice aloof when he asks, “are you owed an explanation?”

“An explanation as to why you don’t want to come home for dinner? Why you don't seem to want to come home at all? It would be nice,” Bruce says tightly. It would be. Bruce misses the Tim he left behind. He doesn't even look like the same kid. His hair is longer than he remembers. It curls around his ears. Bruce remembers Tim wearing ratty sweatshirts and a pair of Dick's old trainers, not Armani.

Tim turns away from him then, his eyes focused on something beyond the windows of Wayne Tower.

“I’ll be there,” he says finally. “I need to discuss something with all of you anyway.”

“We could discuss it now if you’d like," Bruce offers in an effort to extend this moment. Tim feels so far away even though they're sitting right across from one another.

“No," Tim replies and he's _still_ not looking at Bruce. "I’d rather have everyone present. I don’t want to have to ask everyone twice,” he says as he heaves himself up out of his chair. "Anything else, Bruce? Alicia will be back any moment. She’s kind of a task master."

"I take it I'm being dismissed then," Bruce says knowingly. Tim’s pulling away. Bruce is starting to wonder if he ever really had him near.

"If that's how you want to take it. It’s your office, B.” Tim’s smile is sad. He knows this moment is over too.

“It’s not anymore, Tim. It’s yours.” Tim meets his eyes then and Bruce hasn’t seen him look so vulnerable since he was a boy.

“I guess it is,” he says airily.

“So, I’ll get out of your office then. I’m sure you’re incredibly busy running this place. I wouldn’t know I slept through most of the meetings.” Bruce is getting to his feet right as Alicia opens the door. “Right on time. You two can finish going over all the boring paperwork for the day. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bruce,” Tim calls.

“Have a great rest of your day, Mr. Wayne,” Alicia says as she ushers him out and closes the door behind him. 

Well. That went well.

**Jason**

“I just don’t understand why it’s a big deal. It’s never been a secret that Tim’s always been teacher’s pet right? So doesn’t this just make that more sense?” Roy traces a finger across Jason’s chest. They’re finally together again after weeks apart. Roy has been in Dubai working on a job Jason is trying really hard not to be curious about. It’s rare that they don’t work together these days. Jason has missed him. He grabs Roy’s offered hand, brings it to his lips, and sighs. They’re laying in bed together, the sounds of the city almost a lullaby for the night. He should be going out but his ankle’s already halfway to broken and he’ll only fuck it up more if he tries running on rooftops tonight.

“It shouldn’t change anything but it does,” Jason says finally. Roy tugs his hand away and pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can look Jason in the face. 

“What changes? Tim is Bruce’s son? Tim’s always been Bruce’s son. Hell, he’s practically a Cadmus clone,” Roy laughs but he stops when he realizes Jason isn’t laughing with him. Jason can’t.

“I almost killed him, Roy,” he says finally. Quietly. 

“You already knew that, Jay,” Roy says patiently. He doesn’t understand.

“It’s different. He’s Bruce’s _son_ and I almost killed him. Intentionally. You don’t get to come back from that.” Shame is one of Jason’s oldest friends. It curls in Jason’s stomach and sits like a brick. It was years ago, he knows but it’s _different_ now _._

“So, you think Bruce will hold it against you? More than he already has?” Roy’s question isn’t judgmental. It’s genuine. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. I would if I was him but who knows what the fuck Bruce is ever gonna do.” Jason raises his hand and swipes a lock of red hair out of Roy’s eyes. “I know what he thinks of me. I wish I didn’t care.”

Roy kisses him then and for the first time in hours Jason feels peace slowly overtake him.

The tenderness of the moment is broken by the sharp sound of Jason's ’s phone going off.

“You gonna get that? Last family phone call you missed ended up trending on twitter,” Roy chuckles.

“Tim’s gonna handle that I’m sure. Kid’s scary when he’s in business boy mode,” Jason says as he unlocks his phone. It's a text from Dick. "Oh great. I'm _invited_ to family dinner tomorrow night. What do I have to offer to get you to be my plus one?" 

Roy lets out a snort. "You couldn't pay me to be a fly on the wall of a Wayne family powwow. You're flying solo, Jaybird."

Great. Just fucking great.

**Tim**

Tim isn’t sure how he expected this dinner to go. Seeing Alfred for the first time in months had been unexpectedly emotional. He hadn’t realized how much he missed him until the older man had his arms wrapped around him. 

“It’s good to have you home,” he’d said and Tim had felt his heart settle like a stone in his throat. He’d just nodded and smiled and tried not to let the guilt eat him alive. He’d stayed away for a reason.

Dinner itself was its own exercise in torture. Tim took his seat next to Jason and across from Dick and Damian with Bruce sitting at the head of the table. Nobody met anyone’s eyes.

The food was good though.

Once Tim is halfway through his seared halibut, he dabs his face with his napkin, clears his throat, and says, “So, I have a request to make but I know it might sound strange given the current atmosphere.” The sounds of knives and forks scraping against plates slowly come to a stop as everyone’s focus shifts to him. “There are some concerns at the company about the optics of the current _situation_. They’d like to run a photo spread in the paper of us together in order to allay some of the gossip. A couple of group portraits should do the trick,” he says it matter of factly. There, it’s out on the table. Bruce can be the one who picks it up. 

“So, we’re all just supposed to sit nice and cozy on the couch and what? Wear matching ‘we definitely all knew Tim was Bruce’s bio kid and we’re all definitely okay with it’ sweaters?” Jason’s laugh is right on the edge of hysterical.

Tim counts to twelve and slowly unclenches his jaw. He can do this.

“I understand your hesitations but-”

“Hesitations? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Jason stop-”

“Father-”

“Enough.” Bruce says as he holds up his hand. The table falls silent. “I’m going to assume this is the PR team’s idea?”

“Yes. If it helps, know that I tried to talk them out of it but they were insistent and we’re still recovering from the debacle with Ra’s so...it is what it is.” Tim takes a long pull from his water glass silently wishing it was something much stronger.

“And they’ve run the numbers on the effectiveness of this plan,” Bruce continues.

“They have. They don’t believe it will fix everything, but it will help put out some of the fires and…help your reputation given its recent tarnish.”

“Can Bruce’s reputation be tarnished further?” Dick says around a bite of fish.

“People have a thing about infidelity and as much as my parents hated each other, they put on a really good front for the city. Bruce has always been a ‘bad boy’,” Tim ignores the sounds of Damian choking on air, “but homewrecking is something else altogether. Also, they’d like to make sure we’re not all fighting over Bruce’s assets.”

“Jesus this is fucking insane,” Jason groans. 

“It’s not a terrible idea on PR’s end. Image is everything and this is a relatively easy fix.” Bruce shrugs and says, “tell them we’ll all be available this Saturday.”

“We?” Jason’s eyebrows are nearly at his hairline.

“Yes. We. Did you have something going on?” Bruce counters.

“Apparently just posing for the Addams family portrait,” Jason grouses as he roughly spears a potato.

“Fine. It’s settled then. I’ll set everything up for Saturday,” Tim sighs tiredly. “Hopefully this will be the end of it.”

“So, that’s it then? We’re just supposed to take a family photo and _not_ talk about it?” Dick says.

“What is there to say?” Tim challenges. “Bruce slept with my mom because he has terrible taste in women. Now we’re here. Nothing would be different and frankly, I’d like to leave it at that.”

“Then that’s it,” Bruce says before Dick can respond. 

“Then that’s it,” Tim parrots before he grabs his glass and takes another gulp of water.

The rest of the dinner remains tense, but Tim survives it. When the plates are finally cleared Tim watches as Damian practically speeds away from the table. 

Great. 

He’ll handle that challenge another day.

“Can I persuade you to stay a little bit longer, Master Timothy,” Alfred asks.

“Thank you for the offer but I have an early start tomorrow,” Tim says sadly.

“Of course. Take care of your self. We do worry about you.” Tim hesitantly takes his coat from Alfred’s outstretched hand.

“I’ll do my best, Alfred.” Tim pulls on his coat and offers the old man a woeful smile. 

Leaving the manor feels different this time. 

Tim’s not sure why.

**Dick**

It’s not long after dinner ends that Dick begins his search for his little brother. He finds Damian in his room sitting on his bed, sketchbook in his lap. Good. That’s good, Dick thinks. That’s _normal_. 

“Hey, babybat,” he says good-naturedly, “you left in a huff so, I thought you might be upset.”

“Why would I be upset?” Damian shrugs but Dick can tell it’s forced. 

“Can I sit on your bed?” He asks gently. 

Damian pulls his legs in until he’s sitting cross-legged and nods. 

“Thanks,” Dick says as he sits. “This is all pretty weird. And it’s got to be a big change for you,” he says softly. “I know how much being Bruce’s son means to you. You know you’re still his son, right? You always will be.”

“Of course, Richard. You don’t have to state the obvious.” Damian snarls. He lurches to his feet and starts walking in the direction of his bedroom door. Okay. So that’s a button. 

“Dami, what’s going on? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong. I just wanna help.” Dick tries.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t care about Timothy. One day I’ll be able to make my own place at the company without his influence.” Damian says testily as he continues scratching at his sketchbook.

Ah.

“Tim’s not gonna block you from joining the company, Dami,” he says. 

“Of course, he’s not.” Damian says but his voice sounds uncertain. 

Dick reaches out and covers the boy’s hand with his own. “Look at me, Dami,” he says.

Damian finally meets his eyes and _god,_ he looks so sad.

“You are still Bruce’s son. I’m still Bruce’s son. If anything, Tim’s probably more annoyed about all of this coming out than anyone,” Dick gives him a rueful smile. “Even more important, Bruce loves you. I love you too.” 

“You’re being ridiculous, Richard,” Damian says as he hurriedly wipes his eyes.

“Of course, I am. I’m your big brother,” Dick doesn’t call attention to Damian’s tears. There’s no need. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on? I haven’t seen any of your recent pieces.

Damian nods and turns his sketchbook so Dick can see. As Dick flips through the pages, he wishes the others were here to see these.

**Jason**

“If you’re here to be a pain, I’d prefer you waited until after I had a decent night’s sleep.” Tim unlocks the door to his apartment and steps aside so Jason can enter. Geez. Tim’s apartment is nice. If this is what daddy’s money can buy maybe Jason should try to make nice. 

It's sparse though. With as many little friends as Tim has, he'd expect to see more photos. At least more of the clone. The walls are covered with bland abstract art that he's sure Tim didn't pick. 

Tim doesn’t look surprised to see him. He looks fucking exhausted

"I figured you'd be rubbing it in," he says finally.

"Why would I gloat about something that changes nothing?" Tim shrugs. Good, they're not dancing around it then.

“Changes nothing? This changes everything," he laughs, "you just skipped to the front of the line. Got the keys to the kingdom. Goldie lost daddy’s favoritism around the time he started rocking a mullet and hanging with speedsters. Apparently its “morally reprehensible” to shoot a drug dealer in the crotch so I’m out-”

“When the hell did you do that?”

"Not important. Babybat's still got too many homicidal urges for Bruce to let him off the leash, and now we all find out that you're blood? Congratulations, replacement." 

“Why are you here, Jason?” Tim sighs and he looks… he looks tired. Well, Tim has always looked tired, but the last couple of years have really taken their toll. Jason sits down to Tim’s too-artsy couch and props his feet up on Tim’s too-artsy coffee table.

“You may be a goody-two-shoes but you’re not too good to drink underage. All that money I figured you’d have something top shelf.”

“You came all the way across town to steal my liquor?”

“I came all the way here to _ask_ for your liquor. Keep up, babybird,” Jason says.

“Oh, that was you asking. Sorry if I couldn’t tell.” Tim goes over to the cabinet though, and pulls out a brown bottle and a couple of glasses. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I don’t drink around Roy and since I’m normally around Roy I normally don’t drink,” Jason shrugs and takes the offered glass. The liquid burns on the way down.

“I asked for the expensive shit, replacement. This is Crown Royal. I could’ve gone to CVS for this,” Jason laughs.

“Yeah, but you came here, so. Crown Royal, it is,” Tim settles next to him on the couch. “I don’t even let Kon drink my good stuff.”

“Rich boys. Always so selfish. Guess you take after, daddy after all.” Tim’s smile drops.

“Guess I do,” he says softly. He takes a swig of the liquor and sighs. “You all were never supposed to find out. It was never supposed to matter.”

“So, you and Bruce just decided to keep us out of the loop? Even after babybat? That’s cold, replacement. Especially when we’re all always preaching about trust,” Jason says.

“Bruce didn’t know either,” Tim doesn’t meet his eyes, “just me.”

Damn. Okay then. “Wow. World’s greatest detective indeed,” Jason laughs. Of course, Bruce would miss the forest for the trees. “Shit. And here I thought Bruce hated me because of what I did to you. Because you’re his kid.”

“Jason,” Tim says softly, “Bruce doesn’t hate you. You’re his kid too.”

Jason snorts. “Not like you. Or Dames.”

“Honestly, you’ve known Bruce for most of your life and you still think he gives a shit about blood? If he did, he’d probably give more of a shit about me than he does.” 

“You’re literally his favorite but go off.”

“Bruce doesn’t play favorites. He plays ‘who’s useful’ and I haven’t been useful in a while.” Tim downs his own glass in one last go.

“Fuck,” Jason says. “If you’re not useful then I don’t know what the fuck I am.” Jason finishes off his glass and grabs the bottle. 

Tim nudges him until he refills his glass. “A toast then. To not being useful,” he says and Jason can't stop the laugh that leaves his lips.

“To not being useful, then.” He taps his glass against Tim’s and downs the liquor. 

“May we find other sources of meaning,” Tim sighs. Jason turns and props his feet up in Tim’s lap.

“I hope you know I’m not driving tonight. You should get a comfier couch.”

“The couch isn’t for sleeping, weirdo. That’s why I have a guest room. Get your shoes off my furniture,” Tim shoves Jason’s legs off of hm and gets to his feet. “C’mon, I’ll show you where the guest linens are.” 

“Oh, the guest linens-”

“You can sleep on the doormat if you’d like!” Tim throws over his shoulder. 

Hm. To not being useful then. 

**Tim**

“We all look ridiculous,” Jason says through clenched teeth. Tim can barely hear him over the sound of the camera shutter closing again. His eyes are beginning to burn from the flash.

“We do but we’re nearly done,” Tim replies and god he hopes that’s true. They’ve been sitting on the couch in the sitting room for over an hour. He’s sitting in the center with his hands placed primly in his lap. He can almost picture his mother shaking her head at him from behind the photographer.

“These are lovely, guys! Bruce, can you move closer to Tim? We really wanna emphasize how close you all are.” Craig says. He reaches out to touch but something on Tim’s face must stay his hand. 

“We’re close enough. It’s a family portrait, Craig,” Bruce says evenly. Ah, so he’s annoyed with this too.

“I know this is important, but I have to be back at the police station by noon,” Dick says gently. He’s tugging at his collar. They’re all feeling a bit stuffy. Craig had insisted on formal clothing.

“We’re nearly done. We just need a few more shots of the family unit looking…well…unified.” The camera goes of again. Tim uncrosses and re-crosses his legs in an effort to wake them up.

“They’re being polite about it but I’m 30 seconds away from smashing that camera. Finish. Quickly,” Jason rolls his shoulders back and forth before settling back into his spot on the arm of the couch. 

“You have 10 more shots, Craig,” Tim says tiredly, “make it work.”

“15?”

“5,” Bruce says and Tim has always admired the way he manages to sound both menacing and pleasant at the same time. 

Tim will have to learn that one.

\--

The final photo is nothing special. They’re all on the couch. Jason on the arm to the far left. Dick next to him. Tim in the center. Bruce. Damian on the right arm. They’ve all got their best PR smiles on. Damian’s has gotten better, Tim thinks. Tim folds the newspaper carefully and sighs. Another fire doused. Another one will probably appear tomorrow.

The sound of his phone vibrating catches his attention, the caller ID flashing.

 _Bruce_.

Tim watches his phone vibrate across his kitchen table and waits until it beeps.

_You have 1 missed call. You have 1 new voicemail._

Tim picks up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the chance to work with some really awesome people on this fic. [anicomicqueen](https://anicomicqueen.tumblr.com/) and [firebird](https://firebirds.tumblr.com/) were my awesome betas. [butterflyslinky](https://butterflyslinky.tumblr.com//) made a really fun playlist that you can find [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLV5rJz9kg7Yg1GPwd-4dxoeXAJ9qomV8B). My other artist was [kikathemighty](https://kikathemighty.tumblr.com/) whose work you can find embedded in the fic.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] ties that bind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870719) by [yellowrooster_podfic (yellowrooster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowrooster/pseuds/yellowrooster_podfic)




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